


Angel's Mercy

by orphan_account



Series: Demon's Surrender [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale loves Crowley, Chains, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Cuddling, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Safewords, Smut, Sub Crowley, Tender Sex, Top Aziraphale, bottom Crowley, but in a very tender way, dom aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Crowley shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He let the breath travel through his eager, naked body; through his knees where they dug into the soft carpeted floor, through the flexed muscles in his shoulders, through his wrists as they hung by chains from the ceiling.He wasn’t aroused, not yet, but the calm that washed through him was its own small kind of euphoria.Aziraphale has Crowley completely at his mercy, and he’s going to make the demon feel better than he has in his millenia-long life.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Demon's Surrender [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868122
Comments: 12
Kudos: 204





	Angel's Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my soft smut world! This is gonna be a series focused around bottom/submissive Crowley, probably with penises and he/him pronouns all around, but I'm hoping to write a lot more smut focused around this ineffable couple being soft and happy together, in lots of positions and with different efforts and gender presentations. 
> 
> If you like this, please leave a comment letting me know what you liked! It really helps me to know what people are into.

Crowley shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He let the breath travel through his eager, naked body; through his knees where they dug into the soft carpeted floor, through the flexed muscles in his shoulders, through his wrists as they hung by chains from the ceiling. The chains pulled at his arms a little, just enough to stretch when he bowed his head; not enough to hurt, but enough to make him feel his utter helplessness.

His heart beat a little harder than usual. He wasn’t aroused, not yet, but the calm that washed through him, here as his body hung limp in its chains, was its own small kind of euphoria. 

He’d secured his own manacles; Aziraphale hadn’t come in yet, had left Crowley to await his arrival. Crowley didn’t know how long he’d been kneeling here. Time had gone a bit hazy once he was hanging from the ceiling. He could only imagine what his angel was doing. Tidying up from the dinner they’d shared, perhaps, washing the dishes by hand - fastidious being that he was, lovingly cleaning each plate and utensil and glass. Crowley smiled dreamily at the image. Then again, maybe Aziraphale was already preparing to meet him. By Crowley’s own request, Aziraphale hadn’t told him the specifics of what their play tonight would involve. Crowley had expected the chains - he knew his angel knew how much he loved restraints - but the rest of the night was entirely in Aziraphale’s hands.

There was no one he trusted more to take care of him. With that thought another wave of calm washed over him, gentle and soothing and sweet, and he relaxed even further. 

It felt like another long while - though it could have been seconds, Crowley was in no position to keep count - before the bedroom door at last creaked open behind Crowley. He didn’t look up, didn’t attempt to catch sight of Aziraphale; he kept his head bowed, his eyes half-shut. Utterly submissive as Aziraphale made his slow, careful way to him over the carpet.

“Well,” the angel murmured. His voice was low and soft and a little rough, sensual in a way it ordinarily wasn’t. “Well, well, well. What a pretty picture you make chained up like this.”

Crowley sighed. His skin was beginning to prickle, arousal condensing in his lower abdomen as he felt Aziraphale’s gaze on his naked form. Yet the strongest feeling was still safety, still complete comfort, as Aziraphale circled around to face him. 

“What to do with you,” Aziraphale mused. Then he crouched down and touched his fingers to Crowley’s chin, tilting his head up slightly. Crowley got a real view of Aziraphale for the first time; he was fully dressed, aside from his jacket, only the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled to reveal a hint of white-haired forearm. His eyes, which crinkled at the edges in tandem with his upturned lips, welled with adoration.

“Oh,” Crowley whispered, and his cock stirred for a moment. Aziraphale’s love was almost a palpable force. 

Aziraphale smiled more widely, and then he leaned forward and kissed Crowley’s forehead, slow and tender. “My sweet, wonderful love, I’m going to give you all the pleasure you deserve tonight.” 

Crowley leaned into the touch, but Aziraphale drew away, leaving his heartbeat even higher than before, his skin beginning to flush. Aziraphale moved around to his back, and then Crowley heard him set something solid and heavy down on the floor by his feet - just far enough from his line of sight Crowley couldn’t see what it was. 

“Safeword, my darling?” Aziraphale asked. 

The answer slipped from Crowley’s lips without effort. He’d never had to safeword before, but Aziraphale was always cautious he remembered how to do it. “Stars.”

“Very good.” 

And then Crowley heard what sounded like Aziraphale dipping his hand into some liquid - that heavy object must be a bowl, then - and, in the next second, the four fingers of his left hand gently touched Crowley’s back. 

The liquid was simultaneously warm and cool. At first it felt like some sort of honey, and Crowley was swept up in an image of Aziraphale’s sweet, gentle tongue lapping honey off his skin - oh, the _decadence_ of that idea - but a moment later he realized it couldn’t be anything human at all. When Aziraphale dragged his fingers down Crowley’s back, leaving four parallel streaks of the liquid, a soft, rolling kind of pleasure began to sink into him. Not the sharp, sparking pleasure of stimulation but the warm pleasure of a hot bath, of a spring breeze, of sunlight. Aziraphale dipped his hand into the bowl again and smeared his palm across Crowley’s shoulder blades, and when it sank in they felt like they were glowing with some inner, radiant light. 

“Angel,” Crowley moaned. “Oh, angel…”

“This is Heaven’s nectar.” Aziraphale swiped his fingers down Crowley’s side, stroking at his ribs, making his nerves jump at the intimate touch. “It feels nice to put on, but its real advantage is how sensitive it makes your skin.” Aziraphale brushed his fingers across Crowley’s shoulder blades again, across where the nectar had absorbed, and Crowley shuddered through a more concentrated burst of the sunlight pleasure. 

Aziraphale was methodical in covering Crowley’s skin. He rubbed the nectar over Crowley’s stomach, up over his chest, on his shoulders and up his strung-up arms. Over his neck, tipping Crowley’s head back indulgently, tender as Crowley bared his throat. By that point Crowley had gone a little dizzy; still not really aroused, but awash in sweet sensations anyway. He leaned into even the lightest of Aziraphale’s touches. Aziraphale didn’t press on him, didn’t let Crowley see how his body would react to harder contact; saving that for later, Crowley guessed. But the anticipation wasn’t unpleasant. Nothing could be unpleasant when Aziraphale was tending to him. 

When at last Aziraphale finished, Crowley was trembling all over. He heard Aziraphale stand up, presumably wiping his hands; his breath came fast and shallow. This was a new, unexpected kind of vulnerability. Every inch of his body was ready for Aziraphale’s touch, yearning for more pleasure even as he basked in the warmth the nectar had already provided. He felt aware of every nerve, every stretch of skin that Aziraphale had painted. 

“Dearest,” Aziraphale whispered, crouched low again, directly behind Crowley. “Oh, dearest, _love._ ”

 _Touch me_ , Crowley wanted to say, _please touch me, angel, I need you_ , but he stayed silent. He was at Aziraphale’s mercy. Aziraphale had him chained and kneeling and submissive, and it was for Aziraphale to decide when he would be touched. 

And it was only a moment later - or perhaps longer, how could Crowley know? - that Aziraphale’s arms suddenly wrapped around him from behind, and Aziraphale _hugged_ him, hard and tight, chest and belly pressed with force against his back. 

Crowley couldn’t help it; he cried out, a high, broken sound, as pleasure crashed through him with the force of a tsunami. Everywhere Aziraphale touched him felt alight. It was so encompassing, so consuming, he thought he must be on the brink of orgasm - but his cock was still only stirring, half-stiff as Aziraphale held him close. The pleasure wasn’t concentrated there; it was everywhere, a flood that surrounded him and filled him until there was nothing it hadn’t reached. 

“Yes, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his breath hard against Crowley’s neck, sending warmth there in bursts and sparks. “Yes. Feel it. Does it feel good?”

“So good,” Crowley cried, “angel, it’s so good, _so good -_ ”

“I want you to feel this, always this, and more - _so much more_ , Crowley, we’re only beginning.” Aziraphale rubbed his hand over Crowley’s stomach, which made Crowley throw his head back, his neck bared again, and Aziraphale kissed it. The pressure of his lips sent a bolt of intense pleasure down toward his cock. 

Then Aziraphale’s hand wandered up, brushing over his nipples, and Crowley released a sob. 

Time really lost meaning once Aziraphale was playing with his body in earnest. He rolled Crowley’s nipples gently, slowly between his fingers, still kissing his neck with chaste, sweet lips that nevertheless drove Crowley’s senses wild. Then, while one hand stayed on Crowley’s left nipple, the other slipped down toward his groin; Crowley’s ecstatic cries didn’t let up, he couldn’t bite down over them. His cock had gone fully hard by the time Aziraphale’s fingers reached it, and it flushed and pulsed with rapture as the angel’s clever hand worked over it.

At some point Crowley realized that the hard, stiff thing pressed against his arse signaled Aziraphale was fully aroused as well. That made the other sensation, the softer sensation of love, well up within him alongside his own bliss. He hadn’t done anything to Aziraphale, couldn’t even touch him as he knelt here naked and bound; Aziraphale had hardened in response to nothing but Crowley’s pleasure. 

“Perfect angel,” Crowley sighed. “My perfect, my beautiful…”

“Hush.” Aziraphale gave a final stroke to Crowley’s cock. “Just take it, love.” 

And now Crowley knew what was coming. Aziraphale drew back just a fraction, keeping one arm around Crowley, grounding him; the other hand Crowley could hear being dipped into the bowl again. 

The amused idea occurred to him that this probably wasn’t what Heaven’s nectar was meant to be used for. But then, he thought a moment later, why not? In the time all things were made, wasn’t infinite bliss what everything was meant for? Wasn’t love, and the million ways one could express it, the end goal of every atom in creation? 

It had been a long time since that had been Heaven’s goal, and it never had been for Hell. But he and Aziraphale were living in that sort of love again now. Freed from sides, maybe they were able to use everything how it was meant once again. 

Slick with nectar, one of Aziraphale’s fingers pressed against Crowley’s hole. Crowley groaned, low and loud, and Aziraphale circled his rim for a few seconds - or hours? - before slowly, carefully inserting it inside. The feel of the nectar on his inner hole set him gasping, his cock dripping, his heart thundering in his ears. His eyes were squeezed shut and he could hardly remember where he was; all that existed was his body, and Aziraphale behind him, utterly in control of it. Aziraphale held complete and total power over him here. And he cradled Crowley in gentle hands, tenderly working him open, showing his devotion with every tiny move.

Aziraphale had two fingers inside Crowley when he crooked them, finding his prostate and touching the nectar to it with surety. Crowley arched his back and screamed. 

“Oh, Crowley, _Crowley,_ ” Aziraphale moaned as he slammed the spot again with his fingers, wringing another scream from him, holding him even tighter with his other arm. “Yes, I want that, _that_ , I want to make you feel so good. I want you to know how good you are. My joy, my _beloved_ , I want you to feel like _this -_ ” he hit the spot again - “like _this_ \- like _this_ , Crowley -” 

Tears streamed down Crowley’s face. He wailed, unabashed, unrestrained as Aziraphale drove him to greater and greater heights of pleasure. When Aziraphale’s hand withdrew he begged, forgetting his submission, his powerlessness, only desperate for more touch - but Aziraphale didn’t leave him waiting. Still clothed, he freed his cock and lined it up, burying himself inside Crowley’s willing body with a single thrust. 

He was falling. He was flying. He was spinning through an abyss overflowing with stars. Aziraphale’s cock was thick and full and perfect, punching into him so deep; Crowley couldn’t even stay aware of his own voice, still crying out, still sobbing ecstatically at each thrust. Now Aziraphale’s arms were around him again, both of them, hugging him as tight and close as he had at the start, chest still pressed to his back as he fucked into him. Crowley was held, secured, _loved_ in this embrace. 

“Come for me,” Aziraphale rasped in Crowley’s ear. “I’m going to come, love, and I want to take you with me.”

He didn’t need to be touched. The feel of a final thrust inside him, deeper even than the rest, and hot come filling him so wonderfully full, drove him at last over the edge - and Aziraphale had brought him so high that the fall was endless. Crowley came and came and _came_ on a long, drawn-out cry, thrashing, head tilted up toward the sky, light exploding behind his eyes, feeling he might explode himself but for the arms of his angel holding him still, so close, here on the ground. 

He went limp again. His head hung, his chained-up arms went slack. Aziraphale’s cock was soft and spent inside him. Slowly, slowly, he felt himself settle back to Earth. 

Aziraphale took a long time to move. He breathed in deeply, and Crowley could feel it again against his back; then he pulled out, leaving Crowley empty. Crowley felt tiredness beginning to creep through his boneless, blissed-out body. Aziraphale reached up, freeing Crowley’s wrists one at a time with a miracle, and, bringing his hands down, took Crowley fully into his arms to cradle him. 

The sensation wasn’t so intense, now, when Aziraphale touched him. The nectar must be losing its potency. It was nothing but a vague soothing warmth. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale, reaching a hand up, hesitant and shy. 

“Angel,” he breathed. “Please…”

He didn’t have to finish the question. With another miracle, Aziraphale was naked, and Crowley touched his chest, running his fingers through the white hair, slightly damp from his exertion. He buried his face in that soft chest and smelled his sweat, smelled the nectar, smelled his angel whose heart beat steady and sure beneath the skin. 

“How was that?” Aziraphale murmured, rocking Crowley slightly back and forth. 

Crowley laughed weakly. “It was incredible.” 

“Mmm, you were so lovely, my dear.” Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “Accepting all that pleasure so nicely. And what would you like now?” 

It was the question Aziraphale always asked after a session. Crowley considered, still curled up against Aziraphale, letting Aziraphale hold him and kiss his hair; his mind traveled over the possibilities, Aziraphale bathing him, washing his hair, giving him water, lulling him to sleep under warm blankets. But he found he wasn’t keen on leaving these arms just yet.

“Take me to bed,” he said. “I want to cuddle. And… would you read to me?” 

Aziraphale smiled down at him, a brilliant, angelic smile. “I would love to, my darling.”

Crowley was exhausted and didn’t have it in him to perform any miracles; Aziraphale miracled the mess away, sent the chains down to storage somewhere - poised for use next time, Crowley was sure - and snapped them both into pajamas. Black silk for Crowley and tartan for himself. Then he picked Crowley up, carrying him with supernatural strength over to their bed. He laid Crowley down tenderly on the blanket, and, when he climbed in after him, Crowley curled up against him once more.

“You’re so good to me,” Crowley whispered, laying his head on Aziraphale’s soft belly. “You… you give me so much.” 

Aziraphale ran a gentle hand through his hair. “It’s a joy to give you things. After everything you’ve given to me, with your care, your love, your kindness.” 

Crowley didn’t object to the words. He was too tired, and anyway, Aziraphale already knew his objections were just for show. Here with Aziraphale, he could simply exist, freely, and let Aziraphale’s praise wash over him without restraint. He had everything he needed. He was whole, and he was safe. 

A book appeared in Aziraphale’s hands. Slipping back into a world where time had no meaning, Crowley shut his eyes, and listened to his angel’s heavenly voice.


End file.
